


close my eyes for the chance of a better view

by notthebigspoon



Series: 37 Stitches [3]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:16:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His boyfriend is beautiful, a double Cy Young winner and a sweetheart to boot. There's no end of men that would be ready to take Clayton's place. But Clayton's not going to let anyone else have it.</p><p>Title taken from 37 Stitches by Drowning Pool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	close my eyes for the chance of a better view

They decide not to move in together during spring training and Clayton's somewhat grateful for that. Their entire relationship has revolved around a series of vacations, sharing living space but it's not nearly the same as living together. The idea of being in too close of quarters is scary. He hasn't ever been with anyone like Tim before and he doesn't want to screw it up. He meant it when he said he loved the older man.

It doesn't seem to matter in the end. They end up at one apartment or the other each night, Clayton doing the cooking because Tim could burn cereal and Tim working on a bottle of wine. Video games on the couch and movies and making out. Showering together and sleeping together, arms wrapped around each other. There's nothing about it that isn't perfect, that isn't everything that Clayton have dreamed of.

He doesn't know how it's possibly going to end well. His grandmother tells him it's romantic, Romeo and Juliet. Clayton's not sure which of them is which, to be honest. Maybe it doesn't matter. They'll both be poisoned in the end.

“The sky is falling.”

Clayton blinks, stares at Kemp. “Uh, what?”

“You look like the sky is falling.” Kemp answers, poking his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“I am being overly dramatic in my own head.” Clayton mutters, chewing on his lip. “You ever expect things to go wrong before they even start? Well, even really start.”

“Not really. Back home, once you decide to do something, you don't worry about the end results. You just push through to the end.”

“Oh please. You Okie boys just aren't bright enough to know when you're beat.” Clayton snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's stupid. I'm in for it no matter what and so is he. It his friends I'm worried about. They don't know me... know that I'm who he's with, I mean. But if they knew, I don't know that it would end well.”

Kemp just stares at him. “If he's in for it no matter what, then who gives a fuck if his friends like it or not?”

“I get the feeling that they could manipulate him. Not that they're bad guys... I just think they'd worry. Especially after what happened with his last boyfriend. Guy signed somewhere else just to get away from him, or so he says. I think the guy just never actually gave a shit and wanted more money than his team was willing to give him. Doesn't matter what I think though. He's happy now... or seems happy. And I'm the one who made him happy. I'll keep him happy.”

Somehow that takes the doom and gloom from over his head. He just wants Tim to be happy and constantly fearing that they'll be torn apart won't help him do that. He's probably not giving Posey and Sandoval enough credit anyway. If you believe anyone who's ever met or played with them, you'll be told that there aren't two nicer guys in the league. Anything they'd do really would only be in what they thought was Tim's best interest.

He falls back into a cheerful mood easily enough, bickering and fighting with his teammates, more than occasionally pulling Kemp into a headlock. They go over the schedule, ponder who's playing when and a not so small part of him itches when he sees _that_ name. He's not so sure he'll be able to hold it all in. He's probably going to take one look at that ugly, stupid, sneering face and lose control. Punch him. Clear the benches.

It'll make his year.

He goes to Tim's apartment that night, lets himself in through the open screen door and mutters to Tim that he's going to get himself robbed or mugged one of these days. Tim mutters and tells him he's 24 but middle aged on the inside, kissing him as he passes by with a glass of wine in hand. Clayton frowns and plucks it away, holding it out of reach when Tim makes a grab for it. His boyfriend flashes him a bemused look.

“Problem babe?”

Clayton snorts. “Yeah, little bit. What's with the wine? Are you trying to be her? You've got a few days before you have to face him, don't need to turn into a wine swilling pain in the ass before then.”

It doesn't miss. The confusion turns to anger before it fades away into resignation. He takes the glass of wine back and drains it in one go before telling Clayton it's the only one of the night, probably the only one for a while. When Clayton suggests tequila and two shot glasses after dinner, his boyfriend lights up, drags him to bed with a shaker of salt and a bowl full of lime wedges. The salt, the lime, the tequila, the taste of Tim's skin. It's as if they're back to their first night all over again.

He pulls Tim into his lap, runs his hands over pale skin and gripping his ass, driving up into him with grinding thrusts. Tim's nails are blunt and short, clawing at Clayton's shoulders, head falling back. His throat is soft, Clayton can feel the moans under his tongue. When Tim comes, grinding against Clayton's stomach, he's panting and telling Clayton he wants him to come, wants him to come now, give him what he wants. Tim's demanding, spoiled.

But he always get what he wants.

Clayton pulls Tim into his arms after they've cleaned up, rests his cheek against the top of his boyfriend's head and sighs. Tim's only response is to trace his fingertips over his arm and yawn, tucking his face into Clayton's neck. He's talking, mumbled nonsense about how it doesn't matter what happens if and when they see _him_ , that _he_ doesn't matter anymore. All Tim wants or needs anymore is Clayton.

It's firm. Tim means every word he's speaking and Clayton is awed by the amount of faith that his boyfriend has in him. It's a little terrifying as well, waking that sense of self doubt in the back of his mind that tells him he's going to screw all of it up. He squeezes Tim's wrist, draws him in closer and holds him tight. He doesn't know why Tim trusts him this much, but he's going to do his damnedest to prove he deserves that trust.


End file.
